


After The Aftermath

by Methoxyethane



Category: Bleach
Genre: Crack, Crack Pairing, Crackverse, Humor, Multi, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-03
Updated: 2010-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-26 04:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Methoxyethane/pseuds/Methoxyethane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The war was over. Aizen had fallen. However, he was the only casualty- his arrancar had all survived, taken as war prisoners by Soul Society. Their swords had been taken, their masks stripped, and the men and women who were Aizen's finest stood before Yamamoto, awaiting judgement.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Divine Judgement

**Author's Note:**

> The war was over. Aizen had fallen. However, he was the only casualty- his arrancar had all survived, taken as war prisoners by Soul Society. Their swords had been taken, their masks stripped, and the men and women who were Aizen's finest stood before Yamamoto, awaiting judgement.

The war was over. Aizen had fallen. However, he was the only casualty- his arrancar had all survived, taken as war prisoners by Soul Society. Their swords had been taken, their masks stripped, and the men and women who were Aizen's finest stood before Yamamoto, awaiting judgement.

"You all stand before me as criminals. However, in times of war, we all take actions we would not under normal circumstances. As such, it is not right to condemn you for simply following orders," Yamamoto began.

The Arrancar muttered amongst themselves. Yamamoto continued.

"It has also some to our attention that you are not normal hollows. We as Shinigami, must uphold our duty to exterminate hollows to protect the innocent souls they consume. But we hold no dominion over your kind, and as such have no right to pass judgement.

"However, you are still dangerous. And as our prisoners of war, we have right to decide what to do with you. We of the Gotei Thirteen have come to decide that it would not be just to merely execute you- nor can we let you go. And so we have some up with a solution that is neither.

"You all have a choice. Either accept banishment to Hueco Mundo, where you will no longer possess the ability to move between worlds to the Living Realm or Soul Society, or..."

There was a silence. The Arrancar watched Yamamoto with baited breath.

"Parole," he finished.

They looked amongst themselves.

"Parole?"

"Yes."

"...Could you maybe... Expand upon that?"

"Of course. This would entail living in Soul Society- within the Court Of Pure Souls, specifically, where you would be surrounded by Shinigami to ensure you do not step out of line. Your swords will not be returned to you, and should you cause harm to soul, your parole will be revoked and you will be banished to Hueco Mundo."

"And... And what? What do we do? Is this, like... Community service or something? Prison?"

"You do not have to do anything. You are allowed to simply exist as any soul does. Provided you follow our rules."

The Arrancar chattered amongst themselves.

"What if we don't like either of these?"

"Then you die. And your body will be donated to science. It's quite horrific."

More murmuring. One stepped foreward.

"Fuck you all. I'm the King of Hueco Mundo- send me home," Barragan bellowed.

"Very well," Yamamoto nodded. Barragan was immediately seized and thrown forcibly into the Gargantas a few yards away.

"And the rest of you?"

"Um. That parole sounds pretty good to me."

There was a general murmur of assent.

"Very well. We will assign you all to living quarters within Seireitei. For convenience, you'll all be living together in one house because it's easier to keep track of you that way, and if you don't like it, suck it up. That is all."

The Arrancar looked amongst themselves again.

"Guys... I just realised something," one of them said suddenly. "We don't have to wear Aizen's ugly white uniforms anymore!"

There was a breif silence.

"Dude, I'm totally getting a real pair of pants."

"Screw that- I"m not gonna wear ANY pants at ALL!"

"I"m gonna wear something yellow!"

"I'm gonna get blue!"

"I'm going to buy a bra!"

"That's great! You need a bra!"

"I know! I've wanted one for so long."

Amongst the chattering, Grimmjow Jeaggerjaques picked at his ear.

"Well. All's well that ends well."


	2. The History of Prostitution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orihime found Ulquiorra standing outside in the middle of Seireitei, holding a cardboard sign reading "PROSTITUTE." She sighed in frustration, running up to him quickly.

Orihime found Ulquiorra standing outside in the middle of Seireitei, holding a cardboard sign reading "PROSTITUTE." She sighed in frustration, running up to him quickly.

"Ulquiorra-san! What have you gotten yourself into this time?" Orihime asked with a frown.

He gave her a predictably level stare. "Well, since we Arrancar aren't techinically Shinigami we can't do their work. Meaning we aren't on their payroll. As such, we need money so we don't starve. We all started looking for jobs, and Grimmjow suggested I become a prostitute."

"Ulquiorra, do you even know what a prostitute is?"

He looked at her blankly for a moment. "I am under the impression that it is someone who performs services in exchange for money."

She sighed in frustration. "Okay, but do you know what _kind_ of services?"

"I... had expected my clients to tell me what they wish of me."

"It's sex, Ulquiorra-san."

"...Excuse me?"

"A prostitute performs sexual favors for money. Grimmjow-san told you to become a whore."

"...Oh. I hadn't realized." He looked thoughtful for a moment. Then, he pulled out a marker, and on the sign he held crossed out the word "prostitute" and scribbled down a note in its stead before holding it out for passersby to read once more.

Orihime sighed, leaving Ulquiorra behind holding a sign saying "WILL PERFORM SEXUAL FAVORS FOR MONEY".

The next day found a similar sight. Except this time, Ulquiorra's sign read "BJs: 50$ HJs: 30$"

Orihime joined him once more. "The last sign didn't work?"

"I worked all night, but Starrk said I didn't bring home enough money. Apparently you aren't supposed to let the customers name their price, so Grimmjow gave me this."

"Do you... Know what BJ's and HJ's are, Ulquiorra-san?"

"...I was rather hoping the client would inform me."

"A blow job is when you use your mouth on a man's penis to bring them to sexual completion, and a hand job is when you use your hand," she said with a sigh, reciting as though she knew only from looking it up in the dictionary.

"...Oh." He looked thoughtful again. Once again, he brought out the marker, and scratched out the sign, replacing it with a new one.

This time, she left him with a resigned sigh and he a sign reading "Blow Jobs: 25$ Hand Jobs: 15$"

"Ulquiorra Schiffer, you have got to be the only person for three worlds who's BAD at being a hooker. It's not a difficult job!" Szayel yelled. "All you have to do is LAY there!"

"Yes. That's exactly what I've been doing," Ulquiorra defended lazily. "But after the first few days people stopped coming, so obviously the problem must be them."

Grimmjow blinked at him."Wait. Don't tell me you've been **litterally** _just laying there_?"

"Yes. Was there some sort of protocol for how it should be done?"

"You- you don't ACTUALLY just LIE there and do nothing! You have to- like, I don't know! MOVE! Maybe PRETEND you're enjoying yourself?

"...But I'm not enjoying myself. I'm doing my job." Ulquiorra looked passively confused. "Perhaps you should be the prostitute instead, Grimmjow. You're much more sexually attractive than me, anyway."

Grimmjow slapped his forehead. Szayel just looked thoughtful. "Actually, He's got a point. You should probably take over the prostitution rack, Grimmjow. We'll just put Ulquiorra in a window or something."

Grimmjow scoffed. "He's certainly got the same facial expressions as a mannequin. And the personality to match."

"I have the approximate personality of an inanimate object?"

Both Grimmjow and Szayel Apollo gave him a blank stare, and practically in unison said: "YES."

"Oh," Ulquiorra said. "I'm sad now."

The next day it was indeed Grimmjow that Orihime found in Ulquiorra's usual spot, holding the sign reading "PROSTITUTE" in magic marker.

"Oh, Grimmjow-san. I didn't expect to see you here. I had come to bring Ulquiorra-san something to eat, but... Would you like it instead?"

He looked at her as though she was an alien. "You really are too damned nice, you know that?"

"W-well, it's just that you guys needed money for food, and since I like to cook I thought that if I at least made one person lunch maybe things would be just a little easier for you all, and Ulquiorra-san probably wouldn't have eaten if no one brought him food anyway, so-"

"Woah, calm down! Don't freak out, little girl. It's cool, I'll eat it."

She beamed at him.

"So... You're at work? Why are you here instead of Ulquiorra-san?" Orihime asked in between bites of chocolate, jelly and teriyaki chicken sandwich.

"He sucked, so we replaced him," he muttered. "Is all human food like this? It's fucking WEIRD. I never thought I'd say this, but I think I miss eating souls."

"G-Grimmjow-san! You know that if you hurt anyone they'll banish you to Hueco Mundo again!"

"I didn't say I was gonna DO it!" He defended. "Hueco Mundo sucks, there's nothing to do but kill hollows and fuckin' make sandcastles. Naw, I'm staying right the fuck here. Barragan can rule his fucking hellhole all by his damn self for all I care."

She smiled again. "I'm glad, Grimmjow-san! You may be a little rough, but I can tell you're actually good person, so it would make me sad to see you banished."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You really are the weirdest thing, aren't you?"

"Yup!" She chirped. "So, how's business going?"

Grimmjow grinned. " _Awesome_. Chicks totally dig the jaw."

"Really?" a voice behind him interrupted. "And here I thought it was because you don't wear a shirt."

"Well, it certainly doesn't hurt," Grimmjow shrugged, lazily looking behind him. "Who let you out of the house, Ulquiorra?"

"Halibel said I was being a nuisance and sent me grocery shopping." He said easily. "Hello, Orihime-san."

"Hello, Ulquiorra-san! but how were you bothering Halibel-san?"

He looked abashed. "I wanted to make myself useful, so I tried teaching myself how to cook. But... I don't think you're supposed to turn the stove to 'high' when making bacon. There was... A small fire."

"Oh no- for bacon you have to have it just below medium, I think. Were you cooking it in lemon juice?"

"I was not. Should I?"

"Hell no! You are NOT taking cooking lessons from HER!" Grimmjow jumped in. "Anyway, I see a lonely-looking girl over there, so I'd say now's a good time to go back to work. You're not allowed to go in the kitchen without direct supervision."

Ulquiorra looked thoughtful. "Does Nnoitra count as direct supervision?"

"NO. Just don't fucking touch anything!" Was the replied growl.

"Oh. Should I... Should I look for another job?"

Grimmjow groaned. "Okay. Here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna go home and not do anything, because you're horrible at anything that doesn't involve killing, and I'm gonna go back to work."

"That... Doesn't really solve anything in the long run, though."

"Wait til I'm done! After I get home, I'm gonna show you how to be better at being a whore, so you can go back to doing that, since all of us talked about it and agreed that we don't trust you with a real job."

"...You guys talked about it? Without me?"

"We didn't want to hurt your feelings by talking about how worthless you are to your face."

"...And talking behind my back is better?"

"Yeah. That way you don't know who said what or how much anyone in specific may or may not hate you."

"Oh. I'm sad now." Ulquiorra said dejectedly. "So. How are you going to teach me to do better at prostitution?"

"We're gonna fuck."

"Oh. That seems reasonable."

"Who wants desert?"

"...And that's how it's done."

"...Oh."

There was a silence.

"Is it allways supposed to be so..."

"...So what? Finish your question or I can't answer."

"I'm not sure what word I want. But my previous experiences in sex were significantly less... Pleasant."

"Yes. Sex is supposed to be fun. That's why people do it."

"Oh." Another pause. "I was doing it all wrong, then, wasn't I?"

"Yup."

"Huh. I'm not sure I want to be a prostitute again. Now that I know I'm supposed to be enjoying myself, I fear I'll get bored and resort to violence."

"Like that guy whose leg you broke?"

"That was an accident. But essentially, yes."

"Yeah. I'm not sure I want you going back to whoring yourself out, either."

"...Why does it matter to you?"

"Shut your mouth before someone shoves a cock in it, Ulquiorra."

More silence.

"Hey, Grimmjow?"

"Yeah?"

" Can we do that again?"

"Yes. Yes we can."


	3. The Communist Agenda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "So. I think it's time we set up some ground rules for the house," Starrk said suddenly, glancing at the former Espada. "I mean, Aizen's dead, so our numbers mean nothing anymore. We aren't allowed to fight, so who's the strongest doesn't amount to jack shit now. Can everyone agree on this?"

"So. I think it's time we set up some ground rules for the house," Starrk said suddenly, glancing at the former Espada. "I mean, Aizen's dead, so our numbers mean nothing anymore. We aren't allowed to fight, so who's the strongest doesn't amount to jack shit now. Can everyone agree on this?"

The others nodded. Halibel swept a lock of hair behind her ear. "So then we should stop trying to order each other around just because of what rank we used to hold over them. We're all equals now."

At the general agreement in the room, Starrk continued. "First of all, I think we should vote on all important house issues. And we're allready pooling our money so everyone can eat- I think we should keep doing that. It seems to be working pretty well. And it allows the incompetent among us to eat, which is nice."

"But what if we need like, shampoo?"

"I think that counts in the house funds. But, um. Maybe we all put like, ninety percent of our money in the pool, and the rest is kept for personal use?"

"...Eighty-twenty."

"Fine. Can we all agree on all these?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"Sounds fine."

"Okay. After that is the issue of. Well, babysitting." Starrk said. "Since Soul Society has deemed Peche and Dondochakka as unfit parents, that means someone has to watch over Neliel." He paused. "And Ulquiorra. I think he needs a babysitter, too. After that fire, and all those people with broken limbs, I'm pretty sure we can't leave him alone."

Ulquiorra pouted.

"I nominate Nnoitra for watching Nel," Cirruci said, raising a hand.

"What?"

Szayel grinned. "Seconded."

Starrk nodded. "Okay. So can we all agree on Nnoitra?"

"No! Nnoitra does not agree on Nnoitra! I nominate- fuckin', I dunno- Yammy!"

"Denied. We've allready agreed on you. Also, Yammy has a real job."

"You can't decide this shit without my permission!"

"Sure we can. This is a democracy. The masses have voted, and we voted against you. Sorry." Ggio said with a wicked grin.

"Actually, I think democracies are capitalist by design," Zommari said thoughtfully. "And we pool our money together to buy food, which makes us communist."

"No, Communisms are democratic. So he's not wrong."

"Don't you need like, a dictator or something to be communist? I think we're- fuck what's the word- Autocratic."

"No, autocracies are where one person holds unlimited power."

"Oh. Well, we were an autocracy under Aizen, then, weren't we?"

"I guess?"

"But right now we're like, a communist democracy? Does that even work?"

"Oh my GOD, you guys, we're a fucking BOARDING HOUSE! We don't need to dissect our fucking political structure!" Apache suddenly shouted.

There was a moment of relative silence.

"So Nnoitra babysits Nel? What do we do with Ulquiorra?"

"I could get a job. Then no one has to watch me," the former Fourth suggested meekly.

"Denied. Last time we let you look for a job - a non-prostitute job, anyway- you destroyed a block of Seireitei and got two people arrested. You're not allowed to leave the house without direct supervision," Grimmjow sneered.

A dejected pout.

"Allright then- all in favor of nominating Grimmjow?"

"Aye!"

"Aye!"

"Wait, what? Dude- I have a real job, you assholes! I spend all day plowing lonely Shinigami women! I don't have time to watch him!"

"Yeah, but. You're the only person who'll put up with him." Aaroniero said reasonably. The others nodded.

"I'm sad now." Ulquiorra sighed.

"Okay look- we keep him in the house and away from the stove, and if he wants to go outside he has to wait till Grimmjow's home to escort him. Agreed?" Starrk offered.

"Agreed."

Grimmjow threw up his hands in surrender. "Whatever. Not like he has anywhere to go."

"...Can I at least do the shopping? I didn't fail that. That one I did fine. Right?"

"Not... Particularly, no."

"...Well. The list wasn't very specific. If it's more specific-"

"Just give it up, Ulquiorra."

"Oh." He paused. "Can I clean? I think I can pull off cleaning."

"Fine, you can clean!" Lillynette surrendered. "On one condition- you have to follow the instructions on the cleaning products EXACTLY as specified. If it says dilute one fourth cup in a quart of water, then don't pour the whole bottle on the floor!"

Ulquiorra nodded. Nnoitra snickered. "You just got told off by a little girl, dude."

"But she's right- the entire kitchen still smells like lemons and disinfectant," Szayel said, nose wrinkling in disgust.

Starrk sighed. "So are we all agreed on all the issues?"

"Yes."

"Yeah."

"No!"

"Shut up, Nnoitra. Yes."

"Can Nel go play yet?"

"Yes. Nnoitra, take her outside to play."

"You guys all suck."

"I'm going back to work. Ulquiorra, don't go near anything flammable or fragile while I'm gone."

"Those chicks won't bone themselves, eh, Grimmjow?"

"At least I'm actually bringing home money, douche."

And slowly, the occupants of the house scattered, off to work or entertain themselves.

Ulquiorra looked around at the empty livingroom. Then at the clock. He sat down.

For a long while, nothing happened.

"Oh. Now I'm lonely, too."


	4. Of New Lives And New Wives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tia Hallibel, third Espada in Aizen's army, was a warrior. However, the war was over. There was no need for soldiers, no battles to fight. And so, no longer able live as a warrior, she was lost. She needed to figure out who she was, not as a weapon, but as a woman.

Tia Hallibel, third Espada in Aizen's army, was a warrior. However, the war was over. There was no need for soldiers, no battles to fight. And so, no longer able live as a warrior, she was lost. She needed to figure out who she was, not as a weapon, but as a woman.

It was not proving as easy as she'd hoped.

Cirruci and her Fraccion had managed to adjust just fine. Hell, pretty much everyone but she, Zommari and Ulquiorra had allready made themselves almost at home in their lives; and even Ulquiorra was trying. And the food he cooked was getting more edible every night.

But, slowly, she was learning.

Slowly, she discovered things about herself. She liked flowers. She wasn't very good at baking or cleaning, and everything she made was too spicy, but she cooked a good curry. She wasn't terribly good at fixing things, but she was still better at repairs than Ulquiorra or the clumsy Yammy. She liked wearing her new bra, and the fact that now that she wore an entire shirt the others didn't stare at her quite like they used to.

She liked working in the flower garden Ukitake-taichou had let her plant in the 13th Squad's yard. She liked coming home with freshly cut flowers and putting them on the kitchen table, then changing into the orange-and-blue kimono she bought with the money she earned selling flowers from her garden. And then she'd help Sun Sun help Ulquiorra cook dinner, because he still tended to leave things on the stove too long or add too much seasoning.

She liked talking to the others about their day, and hearing all the things they did at their different jobs. She liked the conversations she had with Starrk, and the way the disinfectant Ulquiorra still overused smelled.

Hallibel liked her new life.

Not everyone, however, was adjusting quite so well.

Nnoitra, for instance, was quite bitter about his role as official babysitter for Nel. Whether or not he realized he had been assigned this job just to spite him for turning her into a child in the first place was not certain. Most assumed he thought they were just picking on him (which, to be honest, was also true.)

On the other hand, Cirruci was doing surprisingly well in her chosen vocation as a pop idol. She was currently singing in bars most nights, and bringing home enough money and occasionally strange men to keep her more than happy.

Ulquiorra had, with enough training, managed to become a decent homemaker, cooking and cleaning for everyone with only minor calamity. He still wasn't allowed out of the house.

Grimmjow was still a prostitute, and, oddly enough, doing so well at it that he was actually bringing home more money than anyone else. (This resulted in him being given the title Official Breadwinner, and, as the new head of the house, presented with Ulquiorra and told that they were now married as the former Fourth had been titled Official Espada Housewife several days earlier.)

Yammy and Dordonii were doing construction, and had built the extentions on the former Espada's house themselves, until (finally) everyone had their own rooms, and every one else had picked up odd jobs to keep themselves busy or pitch in.

Hallibel smiled to herself.

There was, at that point, an interruption of her internal dialogue in the form of a large crash and the words "WHY CAN'T YOU HOLD STILL YOU LITTLE BITCH!" Followed by "DON'T CALL ME BAD WORDS! I'M A LADY AND YOU SHOULD TALK TA ME LIKE ONE!"

The smile fell from her face. She should probably clean up whatever Nnoitra just broke before Ulquiorra got wind of it. He seemed to think ceros were a better way to get rid of broken glass than just throwing it away.


	5. The Regular Clientelé

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was around three o'clock when Zommari's newspaper was stolen from him. He glanced up from the coffee table to see Grimmjow ruffling through the papers, before handing the want ads back to him and sitting down with the rest.

It was around three o'clock when Zommari's newspaper was stolen from him. He glanced up from the coffee table to see Grimmjow ruffling through the papers, before handing the want ads back to him and sitting down with the rest.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" The former Seventh asked, resuming his perusal of the jobs section.

"I am working. Business has evolved into pure word-of-mouth; now the customers just come to me. S'why my room's bigger than anyone else's- this way I can just bring 'em there."

Zommari just eyed him for a second. "You're a dick. You know that, right?"

"Yer just jealous because you're not pretty enough to sell your body to lonely women." A pause. "And men."

A few minutes of relatively comfortable silence later and the doorbell rang. "We have a doorbell?" Zommari asked, more to himself than Grimmjow.

He was rewarded with a grin. "We have a doorbell for _clients_ to use. Told you I was working," he said, standing.

The door opened to reveal a very handsome, very uncomfortable-looking man. "I was, ah. Told that this-"

"Yeah, I'm the whore. Come on in," Grimmjow instructed, holding the door open.

Upon seeing the client, Zommari's first instinctive reaction was to dive behind the couch.

Grimmjow stared. After a moment, he said, "Actually, that brings up a good point. Next time you see Yammy or Dordonii, could you tell them I need a door from my room directly outside? Bringing clients in through the living room seems a little tacky."

Zommari stood up and brushed off his clothes, trying to look like he hadn't just done something strange or humiliating. "I'll pass on the message. Could you tell Ulquiorra not to do my laundry anymore? All of my whites keep turning gray."

"Why can't you tell him? It's not like he's hard to find, he's allways in the house."

"Well, he's _your_ wife..."

"You know I never actually agreed to that, right?"

"But mostly it's because I don't want to talk to him. He allways looks like he's about to cry when anyone scolds him... I just can't deal with that."

"That's just his face! That's just how his face looks, he's not actually gonna cry or anything!"

"I don't know, I wouldn't be surprised if he did... He's been really depressed and mopey since this parole thing."

Grimmjow made a murmur of assent, scratching the back of his head.

Zommari continued. "It's really sad. We all used to respect him so much, and we was absolutely terrifying to be around... But now he just makes me sad."

"...Yeah..."

There was an uncomfortable silence, followed by a light cough.

"Perhaps, if you're too busy..." A forgotten voice trailed off.

"Oh, no. C'mon, my room's over here." Grimmjow said, leading the client down a hallway nearby.

Only to find Ulquiorra in his room, crouching on the floor with a bottle of disinfectant and a sponge, attacking a suspicious-looking off-white stain near the bed. He looked up when the door opened.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I just thought I'd do some cleaning. I managed to get rid of the weird smell your room had, but... This one stain won't wash out."

Grimmjow sighed. "The smell is gone because now all you can smell is chlorine from your cleaning supplies." He looked at the stain Ulquiorra was working on. "And that's not gonna wash out- that's where you spilled the bleach the other day. The color's just gone from the carpet alltogether."

Ulquiorra looked from Grimmjow to the stain. He sniffed the carpet. "Oh. You're right."

There was an awkward silence. "I should probably go, then. Since you have a client and all."

"Yeah. Um. Zommari wants you to stop doing his laundry, by the way. "

"...Oh."

More silence. Ulquiorra gathered up his cleaning supplies. When he reached the door, he paused. "Oh. Uh. Also, I think Aaroniero wanted to talk to you for something. He's not home though - I think he's with that girl again. Um. Kuchiki or something."

"What?" The eyes turned to the third person in the room, previously forgotten. "Where?"

"I... Don't know." Ulquiorra's response was met by an annoyed growl and a slight breeze as someone flashstepped by.

Grimmjow frowned. "And there goes today's big paycheck. That guy reeked of cash, too."

Ulquiorra fidgeted. "Sorry. I didn't. I didn't think that... I should have just left right away. Sorry."

"It's... Okay. Um. It's not your fault," Grimmjow said, trying half-heartedly to cheer the other up. Or at least stop him from crying.

Ulquiorra sank to the floor, sitting down dejectedly. "It is though. I can't do anything right." He pulled off his rubber cleaning gloves, tossing them to the floor. "I can't believe I thought I was better than you guys back then. It's obvious now - the one who's trash is me. I'm not useful. I can't do anything. I should just go back to Hueco Mundo where you guys won't have to worry about me screwing up anymore."

Grimmjow winced. "Aw, c'mon. That's... You're okay. You've been getting better. We can actually eat your food now! And that cake you made the other day? That was actually pretty good. I mean, it wasn't just that we actually ate it instead of throwing it away when your back was turned, it was genuinely good."

"Really?" The former Fourth asked hopefully.

Grimmjow had to avert his eyes from Ulquioirra's - they were too big and watery to look directly into right now. "Yeah. I mean... Sure. Yeah. So... Don't be sad."

Ulquiorra stood up, nodding. "Okay."

He turned to the open door to leave, and bumped into a rather voluptuous chest on his way out. "Sorry."

The woman grinned. "It's okay, honey." She turned to Grimmjow. "Was that Kuchiki-taichou I just saw flashstepping by? You really do get around, don't you. Last week I could have sworn I saw Soi Fong walking out of here!"

"Hey, Rangiku." He said, watching Ulquiorra scurry off. "Well, I don't think he'll be coming back at this rate. I'm not sure what happened, but I think we scared him off..."

She shrugged. "Pity. You're worth the dime it costs. I mean, I could go out and lay with anyone In please, but if I'm horny I want someone who knows what they're doing," she smiled, closing the door. "And in any case, why are you still wearing pants?"

Grimmjow wandered into the kitchen, sparing a glance at the clock. Just past four in the morning. Probably no more clients for the night, which was why he had been trying to get some sleep. Despite a certain amount of physical exhaustion, he was so far unsuccessful.

He turned the light on, and promptly had a heart attack.

"Ulquiorra? What are you doing in the kitchen at four in the morning? In the dark?"

Ulquiorra raised his head from the table, blinking groggily at Grimmjow. "Is it morning allready?"

"No... Why are you sleeping in the kitchen?"

Ulquiorra yawned. "Because there's no room on my bed. Ever since everyone declared we were married, they decided that we should be sharing a room. So they turned mine into a pantry. My bed is covered in canned food and powertools and laundry detergent."

"...Why didn't you sleep in the couch?"

"Someone else beat me to it. I'm not sure who."

Grimmjow wandered over to the refrigerator, pulling out a milk carton. "Well. I'd offer my bed, but right now my whole room smells like chlorine and snatch. It's a weird combination. Really not helping me sleep."

Ulquiorra sighed. "Sorry. I guess that's half my fault."

"The only ones to blame are our roommates, for expecting you to sleep with me when my bed sees dozens of strange people on a daily basis."

"It wasn't very considerate, was it?"

"Nope."

A few moments of silence, and Grimmjow took another sip front he milk carton before putting it back in the fridge with a sigh. "Okay. You go get clean bedsheets and air freshener, and I'll flip my mattress over."

Ulquiorra nodded, standing up with a suppressed yawn.

"Hey Grimmjow?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Shut up."


End file.
